Basil rested both arms on the wall as he reminisced, another old habit. In life, he often walked the parapet when he wanted to be alone to think.
"I didn’t know many people considered the problem of stagnant water in those days. We've all heard about the disgusting matter thrown into the Tower's moat." Elinor wrinkled her nose. "It's pretty remarkable your family was concerned with the moat's upkeep. How do you drain a moat, anyway?”
He loved technical questions of that sort. Management of the castle was something he'd trained for all his life.
"Originally, a dungeon had been built in the lower level of the Keep. My family stopped using it for that purpose in my father's youth. They constructed a tunnel that accessed the moat with a lower exit channel on the other side. The walls of the tunnel and channel were reinforced with stone to prevent seepage. From a platform, the gate raised to allow in fresh water. The stagnant water was forced out. Once the gate lowered, the moat filled. Villeins dug the channel to the river out then replaced the dirt after the water was exchanged."
"Ugh! Poor villeins!"
He grunted but kept his gaze on the scenery. "I knew Lords who tried to maintain the moat water, and I knew others who didn't." The corner of his mouth curled in disgust, "Trust me. If you ever smelled a moat at the end of summer, you'd lend a hand with a shovel yourself."
"You're probably right."
Elinor leaned back against the blonde stone merlon and turned toward Basil.
He felt her eyes move from his hair to his lips and knew the second they lowered to his chest.
“Of course, the river was a serious problem at times. So much of this area is wetland and susceptible to flooding.”
Green eyes roamed every inch of him.
He’d known many women in his life and recognized what the nuances in a lady’s perusal conveyed. There'd been summer jousts where he thought he’d burn up in his armor. Elinor’s desire scorched him more than the hot metal. Her flesh and blood desire.
He stared straight ahead, because if he looked at her, he'd be lost, his strength of will would falter. There'd be nothing to keep him from trying to do what he couldn't. A painful reminder of the man he no longer was.
Basil propped a foot on the crenel, his thoughts in disarray as he attempted to describe the land. The temptation to touch her, hold her, was too strong. Fighting the urge, he closed his eyes. He envisioned how she’d recoil if she sensed the emptiness of his existence. She is joy and laughter, she is life...she is life, he told himself. He opened his eyes and then foolishly turned.
She smiled when he looked over, her lips glistening with a pink cast in the sun. His resistance crumbled.
I am lost.
Basil closed the gap between them. Gauntlet gloves gone, he lifted a hand to the side of her face. It didn't matter he couldn't physically touch her. He started at the skin behind her ear, continued downward as his thumb stroked a path over her cheek and along the pale arch of her throat.
“Basil,” she said softly and tilted her chin.
Whether it was a faint tingle or tickle he didn't know, didn't care. She felt him. Slowly, he dragged a finger along the underside of her jaw. A shiver passed over her, but she didn’t recoil.
“Basil,” she whispered again and closed her eyes.
He concentrated all his energy. His cold lips pressed against her warm ones and Basil escaped in her kiss.
Her eyes flew open. Like a watermark on paper, his image was dim and faded as she reached to pull him closer. He rejoiced and despaired when she responded. It had cost him to feel her lips move under his, to sense her intake of breath. Longing he'd thought forgotten returned with a force that rocked him to the core. Masculine hunger had been aroused, and for one, sweet moment, he’d forgotten what he was.
The flash of bliss plummeted into abject shame. He stepped away, giving her space, giving him space. Anger surged. He looked to the tranquil blue sky and questioned what manner of God would allow this. He wondered for the thousandth time what he’d done to offend God so.
She watched him with such heartbreaking confusion in her searching eyes. He ached to be somewhere, anywhere, else.
“Basil.” She stepped closer and lifted her hand to his face.
“Don’t.” He moved farther away and she lowered her hand. “Heaven plays a jest on me and I am a fool to have given in to it.”
Filled with bitter self-loathing, he tried to concentrate on the panoramic view, purposefully avoiding eye contact. But, he only saw the vision of her reaching for him, responding to him.
“You’re not a fool.”
The Fates hadn't been totally cruel. They’d let him see the desire she carried for him. He’d make the thrill of that lost pleasure satisfy him.
“We should continue our visit around the castle.”
“Basil—,”
Without waiting, he walked towards the steps of rubble, his boots silent on the gritty stones.
He headed for the Keep as she rushed to catch up. Several minutes went by as he silently surveyed the remains of his home. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with remembrance.
"This was the great hall. Two stories high, the hammered oak beams arched to a peak in the center. Rather like a giant sea beast. A staircase at the far end led to private chambers."
He held his hand out and motioned for her to stand beside him. "A massive fireplace stood along this wall with large Gothic windows on either side. Stone fretwork with triangles of stained glass inserted topped each while the lower portion consisted of clear leaded glass.”
"Tapestries of saints hung on either side of the windows,” he said, pointing. “Larger ones draped much of the opposite wall since no fireplace interfered."
The hall came alive again for Basil. His words painted a picture of the room. "The first tapestry my distant relatives brought back from the Crusades. It showed a Frankish knight battling a Saracen." Every detail took shape as he elaborated. "Woven with threads of silver and gold, you could almost feel the metal of the Saracen's helm. The second was of a white hart. It was my mother’s favorite. The next tapestry was of two leopards bringing down a horse. The leopard is the badge of my family, as you are aware. An immense tapestry hung behind the dais of a sole leopard with our motto embroidered across the top, Virtute et Armis, 'courage and arms.'"
He studied her as she wandered around the bailey. What was it about this woman he found irresistible, and why now? “You have no idea how good you look dancing with such abandon to your rock and roll,” he whispered low. The vision brought a smile.
Perhaps, he reasoned, the attraction went beyond his realm of experience. Elinor was unique in many ways from the women he'd known. For one thing, she was intelligent, a rarity for a woman to be sure. Nor did she pretend timidity. She spoke boldly and never hesitated to argue a point if she felt her cause just. Sometimes he thought her logic correct. However, he saw no reason to admit it.
In his mortal life, there’d been no shortage of women who wanted him. They'd wanted him for his wealth, his influence, and some just wanted him in their beds.
Here and now, he had no worldly things to offer Elinor yet she acted as if his company alone was enough...strong stimulation for a man’s pride, even a dead man’s.
“I guess we should start back.” Elinor came towards him.
With each step, his heart silently said what he lacked the courage to say aloud.
In another time, I'd have brought you to my castle, kept you, loved you, and made you mine. What would you do milady, if you knew my thoughts?
He kicked at a rock that didn't budge as he walked to Saladin.
Chapter Twelve
The first month of her summer vacation was gone already. Elinor hardly noticed since it had also been the first month in the manor. She’d worked nearly everyday decorating the house. From now until the start of school she wouldn’t have the luxury of dedicating so much time to the manor. Her superiors at Stoneleigh demanded early preparation for the upcoming semest
er. Which translated, meant hideously dull meetings in advance.
That morning, the school staff meeting ran late as usual. It was the same every year. The unchanged curriculum was discussed ad nauseam. Lesson plans were submitted and approved and for the most part mirrored those presented the year before. Elinor did win her battle to spend more class time on the Hundred Years War. She couldn’t wait to dig into the middle ages, considering what fantastic resources she had.
Ravenous and tired, Elinor debated whether to throw something together at home, or stop at the village grocery and hope to find a ready made anything. The food didn't have to be tasty, only convenient. She opted for the market.
After three trips down the store aisles, nothing seemed in the least appealing. The food that sounded good needed time to cook. The easy to prepare dishes were less than inspiring. Even the pictures on the boxes couldn't make some of the meals look appetizing. She gave up and tossed two cans of tuna in the hand basket and headed for the cash register. Someone called her. She turned and spotted Jeremy.
"Hi, I wasn't sure at first it was you. I didn't recognize you immediately with your hair up and you’re wearing a suit." He smiled just enough to reveal the dimple at the corner of his mouth. "I hope I'm not being too forward. I assumed you'd remember me. We met a few weeks ago when you came into my butcher shop."
"Of course, I remember you. I just came from work and haven't had a chance to change. So how have you been? Busy at the shop?" she asked, noticing how the little dimple deepened as he talked. He wore jeans and a rugby shirt. The shirt showed off the broad shoulders his butcher’s coat hid.
"Yes, business is good, thank you for asking. It helps when you're the only butcher in town." He reached over and took the hand basket from her and put it on an empty counter. "How about I put these in my basket?”
“All two cans,” Elinor said, dropping them into his basket.
“So, where exactly do you work? You look very official."
"I teach history at Stoneleigh."
Jeremy's brows lifted a tad. "The posh girl's school, I'm impressed." Between them they blocked most of the small aisle. "Perhaps we should walk before someone mows us down." He grasped her elbow, his fingers brushing her ribs as he led her towards the front.
"Why don't we have dinner at the Falcon's Nest?" The pleasant smell of soap wafted over her as he bent close. Such a refreshing change from the heavy scent of most aftershaves many men drown themselves in.
"I'd like that very much," she said, pleased for once the school meeting ran late.
****
She’d hesitated and almost changed her mind about dinner as they stood in the pub’s doorway. It was well past the time she usually came home. Basil might worry. She resisted the sudden urge to leave and reminded herself not to let her feelings for him to get out of control. Especially when she had an attractive man in arms reach. A living, breathing one.
A hazy cloud of stale smoke that irritated her allergies and eyes hung like fog inside the pub. Elinor waved her hand in front of her face while they worked their way through the crowd and found a small table.
Jeremy didn’t wait for the serving girl and placed their order with the bartender. He returned with the drinks and set Elinor’s on the table. He sucked down a swallow from his filled to the top pint of beer and managed not to spill any as he squeezed onto the tight corner stool.
He licked away a thin layer of foam from his upper lip and smiled across the table at her. Such a sexy smile, Elinor thought as her cynical mind questioned her luck. Why would a man who looks this good and has his own business, not have a girlfriend? She sipped her whiskey and soda, while she contemplated the possible reasons.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Jeremy asked, as she sorted through the mental list.
"I was wondering why you don't have a girlfriend."
He didn't flinch at the question, which she thought was a good sign. "Well, the shop is the main reason. It belongs to my father and he'd like to retire soon. Taking over the business hasn't left me with a lot of time to dedicate to my social life, let alone a girlfriend."
Elinor was instantly suspicious. Experience had taught her the next statement would involve some sad tale of being too busy to go anywhere. She could almost hear the "Why don't you make us a little dinner and we can watch television at your place," suggestion. Translation--you can make me dinner and we can have sex, then I'll go home.
"It’s taken a few months to get all the details worked out, and my schedule manageable. But, even with more time available to me, I haven't found anyone who really interests me, until now." Jeremy placed both elbows on the table and leaned forward. "That question goes both ways you know? Why don't you have a boyfriend?"
"I haven't found anyone who interests me either, until now."
For a long moment neither said anything letting the innuendos hang between them.
Jeremy was the first to break the silence, "I like your hair better down."
The barmaid walked by with a plate of roast beef and potatoes, the aroma of onions and mushrooms trailed behind her. Elinor's stomach growled loudly. "Sorry, I'm a bit hungry."
"I'm starved too." Jeremy signaled the waitress.
The next two hours flew by. "It's almost 10:00, I should go. I open early on Saturdays," Jeremy said.
Elinor nodded and tried to hide her disappointment. He hadn't indicated any desire to see her again.
All the way to the car he didn't say a word. Elinor retrieved her keys and started to thank him when he put his arm around her. "Would you like to go to dinner tomorrow night?"
"Yes, I'd love to, what time?"
Jeremy pulled her close. "I’ll pick you up at 7:30."
Her mumbled "Okay” was lost in a sloppy wet kiss. His soft, fleshy mouth covered hers as the kiss reached beyond the outside of her lips. She broke it off and subtly moved her purse between them. "Let me give you my number. Call before you leave so I can give you directions to my house."
He took the paper with her number and opened the car door. "I'll see you tomorrow. Don't forget to lock your doors."
Distracted, Elinor smiled wanly back, thinking more about the kiss, than his concern for her safety. She hoped he was a better date than a kisser. "I'll be okay."
Once out of sight, Elinor wiped her mouth with her fingers. The memory of Basil's expert and delicious kiss came back. It occurred to her that Basil would rather fall on his sword than kiss like a fish. A big mouthed fish.
Chapter Thirteen
Elinor heard the music to Born to be Wild from the end of her driveway. When she parked and got out, a voice not belonging to Steppenwolf sang along in a clear, fine baritone, Guy.
Inside, record album covers were strewn over the drawing room floor. Guy, in the center of the mess, stood putting on a one man show.
"I see you like rock and roll," she said and closed the door.
He stopped singing and turned the volume down to a civilized level. He gave her a quizzical look. "Rock and Roll? If you mean the music with the loud drums and people screaming, then the answer is yes, it's brilliant!"
"Brilliant? I've never heard you use the term before."
"Heard it on the BBC, David Frost called Star Wars brilliant."
Elinor cringed. “Admitting to me, a teacher, you’re updating your vocabulary from the telly is like a knife in my heart.” She laid her hand over her chest and feigned a wound. Guy grinned and pulled a couple more albums out.
She carefully stepped around the records on the floor to put her purse and keys down. A quick scan of the titles showed a remarkably eclectic side to Guy. Elinor put several back into their jackets and tried to establish some order to the chaotic mess as Guy came over. He beamed in an odd self-satisfied way.
"Have you been up to something?" She quickly scanned the room.
"No, why do you ask?"
"You have a mischievous air about you."
Guy picked up an album by the Moody Blues. "I have discovered they w
rote a song about us." He inclined his head toward the chair where Basil sat, legs draped over the arm, reading Horse and Hound magazine.
"The Moody Blues wrote a song about you and Basil," Elinor repeated. "You...and Basil?"
“Not us exactly but about medieval warriors.” Then, with all the aplomb of the chivalrous knight he once was, Guy announced, “Knights in White Satin.”
She started to tell him it was Nights in White Satin, but stopped. He was so thrilled she couldn't bring herself to tell him he misunderstood. "Of course, it's a pretty song isn't it?"
"Yes, it's quite nice indeed." Guy put a record on the turntable and moved the arm over to a specific song. He bowed slightly from the waist and held his hand out to her. "Lady Elinor, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"
"I'd love to."
He held himself farther away than most dance partners and kept looking down, watching her feet. The steps were new to him, so Elinor found a way to gently suggest a lesson.
"We're usually closer together when we dance to a slow song. It's considered very romantic. I can show you if you like. Why don't you play another slow song?"
Guy agreed and rapidly went through the stack of records. The beginnings of Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers started. She showed him where to put his hands along with a basic box step. A natural, he caught on fast and played the song again, softly singing along.
"You know, nowadays, if you danced with a woman and sang to her, she'd melt like butter," Elinor teased, batting her lashes at him. "You'd absolutely be invited into her bed."
"They melted in my time too. Some things have not changed." He raised his chin in self-mocking haughtiness. "My charm transcends the ages."
Elinor rolled her eyes, "You are a conceited devil and the most incorrigible man I've ever met."
"Tis true. Those are but a few of the qualities I wear well, milady." A light tingle teased the small of her back through her clothes where his hand hovered. "I think you find me charming."
Heroes Live Forever (Knights in Time) Page 6
